Daft Powered Giraffe
by automaton1c
Summary: Steam Powered Giraffe and Daft Punk. When the 'bots at Walter Manor need to make a human, they realize that, well, they aren't quite smart enough. What's smarter than an automaton? A robot. PLEASE NOTE: The story of SPG is altered a bit. The Peter Walter in this story is the first. Also contains an OC.
1. Chapter 1

Peter Walter sat in his study, facing away from the door and towards a huge window, though his blank gaze suggested that he wasn't really looking out.

His foot tapped rhythmically, though there wasn't any music.

Long white fingers steepled together and tapped his chin to the beat of his foot.

Now, Walter could've given many excuses as to why he was simply sitting there, in front of the window.

He was coming up with a brand new invention

He had glued himself to the chair on accident

He was dead (with both eyes open and motor skills functioning, one might add)

He was trying photosynthesis, with mixed results

Yes, there were a number of things he could've said, if one had inquired what he was doing.

But the truth was, Peter Walter the 1st was simply bored.

Extremely, undeniably, irrevocably, bored.

He'd been sitting this way for a while now, observing the window panes. He hadn't quite gotten the energy to actually look out of the window, but he was getting there.

With a frustrated sigh, the inventor pushed himself away from the window, his rolling chair squeaking loudly as he did so.

He ran a hand through his wild black locks, curled a finger around his mustache, tugged on his goatee, then stood up, knees cracking in protest.

As he paced, he thought of things that might satisfy his boredom.

Now, you may be asking, reader, why was this man so bored? He was a great inventor, wasn't he? The great Peter Walter the 1st, creator of the famed Singing Musical Automatons, as well as many other inventions, who lived in a huge mansion that bore his name, with the latest technology and tools that would make even the most brilliant scientist brain dead.

Yet, even with all these accomplishments and gadgets under his belt, he still paced in his study, hands tightly clasped behind his back, eyes fixated on the floor, wondering what to do.

After his war with Thadeus Becile, his longtime rival, he had destroyed all his automatons, except for five.

Upgrade, The Jon, The Spine, Rabbit, and Hatchworth.

He'd sent the first four out into the world, to create music for people to enjoy and cause them to forget the terrible war they'd had to endure.

Hatchworth, however, he'd deemed too small and quite frankly useless to be much good to the others, so he'd kept the last automaton at Walter Mansion, for studying.

And by studying, he of course meant locking the little robot in a concrete vault for about 80 years.

Anyway, the four automatons he'd deemed acceptable had done extremely well in society, gathering quite a following and becoming popular with adults and teens alike.

Then Upgrade had gone ballistic, quite literally.

For the war, each of the automatons had been equipped with guns and other weapons with which to fight Becile's army.

After the war, he had taken most of the weapons out of his automatons, to ensure the safety of the people around them.

Upgrade, however, had a large, ballistic revolving machine gun in her arm. The gun had been too hard to remove, Walter decided, so he left it in.

Upgrade, as her name suggested, had always been the most up to date, rational robot, so he'd trusted her not to attempt anything crazy.

Well, that hadn't gone quite as Walter had planned.

At one of the shows, she had undergone some malfunctions, causing her to revert back to factory settings, aka reverting back to her primary function: shooting the crap out of unidentified objects

Apparently a camera had counted as an unidentified object to her.

Thankfully, only one person had been injured, but it took a long time for Walter's automatons to reach their previous level of fame again, even with the removal of Upgrade.

After the female robot was gone, the three remaining robots (The Jon, The Spine, and Rabbit), changed their name to Steam Powered Giraffe and continued their musical business.

Everything was going perfectly. The robots had released two albums and were working on a third, Walter was raking in the profits, and the fans were going crazy with 'steampunk fever', as it was known to be called.

The Jon, however, had to mess everything up.

He decided-yes, decided-that he didn't want to be a part of the band any longer.

This confused and astounded Walter. The Jon was an automaton. A robot. He was programmed to obey orders and create music.

Somehow, he'd overwritten his programming and gained self-awareness.

Peter Walter couldn't have that, no sir.

The Jon was quietly disabled, and the band was down to two members-The Spine and Rabbit.

But of course, this wouldn't do either!

The Spine's low, soothing voice, and Rabbit's reedy, snarkier one simply couldn't hit the high notes that The Jon and Upgrades could.

Also, the band was missing a key dynamic, a certain personality to keep the show rolling.

So Walter only had one choice, however much he didn't like it.

One robot that hadn't been dismantled or sent to Antarctica (it was decided that Upgrade could do the least amount of harm there)

Hatchworth.

The short, stocky, mustachioed automaton sitting in Walter Manor's basement.

Though both Walter and the fans were both extremely hesitant at first, it was revealed that Hatchworth had the most range out of anyone.

Walter still remembered the robot's first show with Hatchworth, how the audience hadn't cheered at all when the newest member had entered the stage, and had maintained a frosty disposition towards him all night.

They had only accepted him when they heard him sing for the first time, in the song 'Hatch Fever'

Who knew that such a wimpy looking robot could belt it out that much?

It was a typical underdog story, and once the fans warmed up to Hatchworth, they ate it up.

And so, Steam Powered Giraffe was really born.

With The Spine, the handsome, charming, practical guitarist

Rabbit, the sarcastic, snappy, and entertaining keyboardist

And Hatchworth, the kind, naïve and sometimes ignorant bassist.

Life was good.

There was a brief upset when Rabbit came to Walter one day, saying that he wasn't comfortable in his male body any longer, and begged Walter to make him a female one.

Walter had complied, and the band had lost some of the more closed minded fans.

But all in all, Steam Powered Giraffe was good, and set for the future.

Of course, the musical automatons hadn't been the only things Walter had invented.

He'd also made two robots.

Robots and automatons are very different, remember this, dear reader.

Though the terms may seem interchangeable, they aren't

Automatons have gears, copper wiring, and metal skin. Their movements are jerky, restricted by their metal joints, and they require oil two times a day. Automatons are more like humans in their thought process. They aren't super geniuses, and they tend to have more of a personality than robots. Also, they are physically stronger than their computer based cousins.

Robots have computers, and electricity, and rubber synthetic skin. Their movements are more human in nature, smoother and more delicate than automatons. They need to be plugged into some form of electricity for eight hours a day, or else they'll go dead. Robots are extremely intelligent. They're literally just walking computers. As a result of this, they don't have as much of a personality as automatons, and are weaker.

Personally, Walter preferred automatons over robots, but he still drabbled in the electrical art from time to time.

He'd created one robot, made it short and gold and French on a whim, taught it how to create music, then grew bored of the thing and cast it away into the same basement that had held Hatchworth prisoner for all those years.

Sometime later, he'd made it a partner, a tall, silver, equally French robot, and sent them both out into the world, to see what would happen.

These days, he heard they were a very famous electronic music duo, and had even convinced many people that they were human.

There had been other automatons, and a few other robots since then, but they just hadn't had the same appeal that his first automatons had. He'd experimented for a long time, nearly gotten himself killed multiple times, and finally decided to take a break for a while.

And that leads us back to the present, to now, to a bored inventor pacing in his study, wearing holes in his shoes and the floor.

He needed company. He needed someone to talk to.

And who better than his creations, his children?

He pushed a button on his intercom and leaned down to speak into it.

"The Spine, Rabbit, Hatchworth. Could you please come to my study?"

Then the inventor sat back into his chair and waited.

A few minutes later, three automatons entered the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Rabbit came in first. She always led the pack, wherever they were going, Rabbit was usually in the lead. She was of middle height, her build thicker than average, but still fit looking. This had been a personal request to Walter. He didn't know why, all he knew was that she was much, much happier as a female than she had been as a male. She wore a black dress, with full length sleeves, and bright pink and black stockings. Walter had made her face copper and green, and her eyes green and blue. Two metal 'rabbit' ears sprung from her head, giving her the name. A few stray dreadlocks hung from the back of her head, a feature she had added all by herself.

Hatchworth followed after Rabbit. Walter suspected he enjoyed the comfort of being in-between the other, taller automatons, though he wouldn't admit it. Hatchworth was the shortest and stockiest of the three. He was extremely solid looking, like nothing fazed him. Hatchworth was usually found with a dopey, happy little smile on his face. He was adorned with an old style jacket, with the opening to the side. A large, glowing circle was in the middle of it. This was part of Hatchworth's hatch. Nobody knew where his hatch went, but most just assumed it went to another dimension. The most striking feature of Hatchworth, however, was on his upper lip (well, it actually was his upper lip). A large, bushy, orange mustache dominated the lower part of his bronze face, and usually was very well maintained.

Last came The Spine. Even though Rabbit was the oldest, The Spine was the protective, practical one of the three. He was the tallest, with long, lanky legs, and a chest like a pigeon, high and rounded. His face was handsome and strong and silver, with black lines where individual components of his face fit together. The Spine was dressed in a red and black suit with matching vest and a fedora. His eyes glowed green, and when he was agitated (which wasn't very often), they'd flash and burn right through you. The Spine, as his name suggested, had four sets of spines, like a stegosaurus, going down his back. Whenever he told someone about these, he explained that this was his 'backstory'. As you can tell, the Spine wasn't very good at jokes. But he was certainly the most level headed of the three, and put up with his companions well.

Peter Walter examined each one of them as they came through the door, making sure they were in good condition. They lined up in front of him, tallest to shortest. The Spine clasped his hands together behind his back and stood up tall, Rabbit cocked her hip and put her hands on them, and Hatchworth twiddled his thumbs quickly.

Walter smiled fondly at them, his children. He'd never had any real ones of his own, so these were as close as he got.

"How are you, Spine?" he asked the first automaton.

The Spine glared briefly at Rabbit before answering "Could be better, sir."

Walter looked at Rabbit, raising an eyebrow. She was known to be a prankster, and got this look often. "And why is that?"

The Spine crossed his arms. "Rabbit put mayonnaise in my fedora, sir. It took the whole morning to get it out"

Before Walter could reply, Rabbit spun around to face her taller partner. "I-I- did not! But now I wish I h-h-had, actually. That fedora is the loserly-ist thing I've ever se-see-seen!"

Seeing as Rabbit was so old (built back in 1896), she was a little, well, rusty. She was prone to malfunctions, and many times a live show would have to be stopped because of it. Her speech impediment was irreversible, and they'd all gotten used to it by now.

"I know it was you, Rabbit" The Spine replied, his voice as calm as ever. "You're always-"

"Actually," Hatchworth interrupted, raising his hand "I put mayonnaise in your fedora, Spine! The smell helps me concentrate."

The Spine opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Rabbit

"You-you-you have smell receptors? No f-fair!"

She turned to her creator.

"I-I want smell receptors!"

"And I want a new hat…" Spine muttered.

"And I-well, no, actually, I'm good. No, I want a glass of water with two bendy straws in the shape of friendship. The Spine and I need to confirm that we're pals!" Hatchworth said, a bright smile on his face.

"Hatchy, I told you I'm not gonna do that."

Peter Walter sat back in his chair. Had he forgot to mention that his automatons could be a bit childish sometimes? And obnoxious. And just plain odd, really. He tuned out Hatchworth and The Spine's arguing, briefly listened when Rabbit joined in for no real reason, then ignored them yet again.

He was awakened from his daze by The Spine clearing his throat.

"Um, Mr. Walters?" the silver automaton asked.

Walter stood up, rubbing his eyes as if he'd just awoken from a nap. Maybe he had.

"Hm? Oh-yes, are you all quite finished?" he asked, sounding quite peeved.

All three automatons flinched a bit.

"Yes sir. Sorry sir" The Spine muttered, then nudged both of his companions so they apologized.

"Right. The reason I called you all up here is…" Walter trailed off. He couldn't just say he was craving the sound of another voice, no matter how artificial it was. Wait, they had done a show the night before, hadn't they? That was it. "to as you how your show went last night!" he finished.

The automatons looked confused, but answered anyway, launching into a three way storytelling of that night. He tried to listen to The Spine's retelling as much as possible, knowing that Rabbit would try to expand on the truth a bit, and Hatchworth would probably get so distracted that he would cease to talk about the show at all. It was a bit difficult though, seeing as all three robots were talking at the exact same time.

"-and then we packed up our stuff, spent an hour or two at the autograph booth, and came home" finished the Spine.

"-after that, lightsabers d-d-descended from the sky and we all had an epic battle on the Eiffel Tow-tower! Then we flew a g-g-g-g-g-giant Zeppelin home!" Rabbit exclaimed with a flourish of her arms.

"-so yeah, I don't get wombats, I mean what do they even do? And why are they called wombats? Aren't they just little rodents? I mean…" Hatchworth trailed off when he realized everyone else had finished.

Walter took a moment to process this information, then nodded slowly. "Sounds…interesting!" he finally said. "Um, Rabbit, how are you adjusting to your new body?" he asked, for a change in topic.

"Oh, it's g-g-great!" she replied, eyes twinkling. "It works so much b-better than my old one, and it just feels right, y-you know?"

Walter smiled. It was rare to see Rabbit purely happy, without any sneaky intent or questionable cause.

"And Hatchworth, how are you adjusting to…well, society?" he asked the bronze robot. Though he didn't show it, Peter still felt extremely guilty for leaving Hatchworth down there for all that time. Though the bronze golem didn't suffer like a human would, when The Spine and Rabbit pulled him out of there, it took a while to get him all sane and well again.

Hatchworth laughed. "Very well, sir! Though human eating still kind of weirds me out. I tried it once. Didn't work too well."

Walter chuckled, avoiding The Spine's accusing glare. He knew the tall automation was still peeved at him for leaving Hatchworth down there for so long. Walter wished he'd just let it go. Hatchworth didn't blame him, why should The Spine?

The inventor nodded. "Good to see you're all doing well."

There was a moment of silence.

"I-Is that all, sir?" Rabbit asked, tilting her head in a manner that reminded him of a dog.

Walter sighed. It was foolish of him to bring his creations up here. Yes, they were very good at creating music, and were entertaining at times…but they just weren't…human. He wanted human interaction, not almost human interaction. "Yes, that will be all. You can go" he told them, landing heavily back in his chair and swiveling it away from them.

The three automatons exchanged glances. They wanted to stay and ask what was wrong, but their creator had given them a direct order, and they had to obey.

Hatchworth paused so Rabbit could take the lead, and the automatons filed back out of the room, leaving Walter in almost the same position they had found him in.

"W-w-what do you think is wrong with him?" Rabbit asked, as soon as they had exited the room.

"I dunno…do you think he's hungry? Should I have offered him a sandwich?" Hatchworth asked, opening his hatch. It spilled light all over the narrow hallway they were in. He reached inside and pulled out a perfectly good ham and cheese sandwich. One of Hatchworth's many quirks was his fondness of sandwiches. He couldn't eat them, and nobody knew where they came from, they just seemed to appear out of his hatch whenever he wanted.

"No, Hatchworth, I don't think he wants a sandwich" The Spine said gently, placing a hand on the younger automaton's shoulder. Hatchworth shrugged and tossed the food carelessly behind him.

"We-well what's he want t-then?" the female robot asked.

The Spine scratched the back of his neck in thought. "I believe…well, I could be wrong…I mean, this is purely speculation…I don't actually-"

"Spine" Rabbit said warningly. "Just spit it out."

"Yeah, cause whatever you got is a lot better than whatever we have" Hatchworth agreed.

"Human companionship" The Spine said, sounding morose.

"Huh?" the two others asked, looking at the tall bot in confusion.

"He needs someone to talk to…someone who understands him." The Spine continued, looking down at the floor. The three were nearing the end of the hallway, and began the descent down to the lower levels of the house.

"Well, he was just talking to us, wasn't he?" Hatchworth asked

"Well, we aren't human, aren't we?" The Spine retorted, his voice venomous.

Humans were a sore spot for The Spine, and both of his companions knew it. The silver automaton had been craving humanity ever since he was born. He wanted to become human, to feel what it was like and experience all the things he couldn't as a being of metal and oil.

He'd never expressed these feelings to his creator, of course, for fear of a The Jon-like incident happening.

But deep down in The Spines core, his soul, he knew that he was meant to be human.

The guitarist sulked for a bit, using his long legs to walk in front of the other band members. After he'd calmed down a bit, he slowed, apologized to Hatchworth, and continued the speculation.

One lengthy conversation later, the three came to the decision that they would build one.

They were going to build a human being.

They'd sat at the large table in the kitchen for about an hour, designing and sketching, trying to make this new human look perfect.

It was unanimous, the gender. Female was the obvious pick. The Spine had read somewhere that human males liked human females, so that was settled.

She needed to be beautiful, Rabbit decided.

She needed to be intelligent, The Spine stated

She needed to be kind, Hatchworth put in

She was going to be tall, taller than Rabbit, who was 5'8, but shorter than The Spine, who was 6'3.

5'9, they decided. That was a good height.

She was to be slender, not stocky like Hatchworth, or large like Rabbit. More like the Spine, maybe?

This was their only way of really measuring anything, to compare it to themselves. They knew themselves and their partners inside and out, so it did make sense.

Finally, they came up with a pretty, smart, and nice woman, who was exactly 5'9, and very skinny. It didn't leave much room for curves, but the robots decided that didn't matter much.

Rabbit wanted her to have brown hair

The Spine voted for black

And Hatchworth argued for ginger.

So they did the only logical thing and gave her short blue hair.

They couldn't decide between blue or green eyes, so she ended up with turquoise.

Rabbit asked why they didn't just do what she had-one blue eye and one green eye.

Before The Spine could offer up a reasonable explanation, Hatchworth cut it with "because that's stupid"

After they pried Hatchworth from the chandelier, they decided on a pale skin tone, small nose, mouth, ears, hands, and feet.

She was almost done, almost ready.

The detail that had gone into these plans was incredible. Every hair, every freckle, every scar had been drawn carefully, then gone over for analysis.

You may be wondering, why would the automatons give their creations scars? Or zits? Peter Walter certainly hadn't put dents in their metal skin, or cracks in their heads. So why pass up the opportunity to make this human perfect?

Because, as Rabbit put it, perfect is boring.

Besides, they wanted to make this human as, well, human-like as possible, and the automatons were pretty sure there was no such thing as a perfect human being.

"Is she done?" Hatchworth asked excitedly, trying to peer over The Spine's shoulder as he finished the drawing.

"Pretty much." He answered. "I just have to add a few-"

He was cut off by a happy whoop from Rabbit, who linked arms with Hatchworth and skipped merrily in circles, their earlier dispute apparently forgotten.

The Spine, uninterested in joining his companion's childish antics, finished up the drawing, wrote out a few labels, and stepped back to study it.

It was then that he realized something quite crucial.

"Guys…" he said quietly.

Hatchworth and Rabbit either didn't hear him or ignored him, and continued discussing possible names for this new human.

"Guys…" the silver automaton repeated, a bit louder.

Still no response.

"Guys." The Spine said for a third time.

Rabbit looked up and raised an eyebrow. "W-what is it, Spine?" she inquired.

He sighed, plopped down in the nearest chair (which had been reinforced to be able to comfortably sit a being made entirely out of metal), and ran a hand over his face.

"How do you make a human?" he asked.


End file.
